


The Girl in My Window

by grape_juice_boobs



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/F, Love at First Sight, One Shot, Pining, Strangers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-10
Updated: 2018-03-10
Packaged: 2019-03-29 07:24:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,231
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13922211
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grape_juice_boobs/pseuds/grape_juice_boobs
Summary: "I have a solid 30 minutes before the 9 AM stand-up meeting when I can more or less stare out the window.Ninety-eight percent of the time it's business people with leather messenger bags staring at their phones. One percent of the time it's that boy walking dogs back and forth from the park around the block.  I will admit that I do quite enjoy that.But that last one percent makes it all worth it.  I mean, those are some adorable puppers, but, I’m telling you, this girl...."





	The Girl in My Window

There is only one thing I like about this godforsaken job. You can damn well bet it's not the fluorescent lighting. It's not the stale coffee in the break room. And it's certainly not my greasy haired boss, leering at me in his Young Republicans polo shirt. Not even the short commute or the business casual dress code can make me happy to work here.

The only thing about this job that I actually like is the window in my cubicle facing the #13 bus stop across the street. But if it's not within the 8:32 to 8:37 a.m. time frame, this window is completely fucking useless to me. The outside of it is covered in 3 foot high handprints from those goddamn Montessori school kids that walk by every day and pound on my window. And for two agonizing months this spring, there were no less than seven men standing around with shovels ogling me in their neon green work shirts and hard hats. It actually made me prefer my boss, whom I have nicknamed Salad Bags (this is not a compliment), staring down my shirt when he nags me to get my reports in sooner.

But for roughly 3-5 minutes each day, I have the chance to see her. She has legs that go for actual days. She has a good hair day every damn day. And she is fucking beautiful. I'm talking girl next door, probably walks to the mailbox like she’s on a damn runway, beautiful. I’m telling you, this girl’s jaw could cut through the glass of my window (and then hopefully carry me off into the sunset).

I'm not objectifying her. _Fuck you, I am not._ I'd let her objectify me any day of the week, sure. But I'm not objectifying _her_. I'm admiring her. Some days I don't know if I want to be her or be on her. This is a girl I want to get to know… carnally. Fine, alright. I'm objectifying her just a little bit. But in a respectful way. Kinda like, damn girl, I can't wait until you're home so I can rip your clothes off and fold them neatly in a drawer. And if we were to make sweet, sweet love afterwards, I certainly wouldn't complain. 

It started as innocent people watching, purely recreational.

See, I basically spend as much time as possible not working but also make sure to have my desk in disarray or walking around shuffling papers as if I'm off to do important work. That's almost never the case but it looks good. Salad Bags even praised my work ethic during my review.

Anyways, my cubicle is so positioned that I have this huge window at ground level next to a storage closet. By 8:30, everyone is snug at their desks, putrid coffee in hand, and otherwise not milling about, and basically no reason to walk by my desk. I have a solid 30 minutes before the 9 AM stand-up meeting when I can more or less stare out the window. 

Ninety-eight percent of the time it's business people with leather messenger bags staring at their phones. One percent of the time it's that boy walking dogs back and forth from the park around the block. I will admit that I do quite enjoy that.

But that last one percent makes it all worth it. I mean, those are some adorable puppers, but, I’m telling you, this girl....

//

The first time I saw her I was caught off guard. It was rude, really. Raven was installing new software onto my computer, gossiping about something or other, when all of a sudden an angel walked by my window. 

I’m serious, I was minding my own business, spaced out and only half listening to my friend, watching a plastic bag float over the pavement trying to cross the street towards my window. When out of nowhere, a shoe stomps down on the flying litter, a slender hand reaches down at the offending item, and long distracting fingers crumple it up and toss it into the concrete trash can on the sidewalk.

What kind of person just picks up loose trash and disposes of it? 

I felt a sudden urge to clean a park or adopt a highway. With her. 

But that was it. She tosses the trash and crosses the street to wait at the bus stop for the Number 13.

I witness this harrowing act of selflessness and environmentalism from the woman of my actual dreams and I’m just expected to go about my day like nothing happened?! Not. Possible.

I know what you’re thinking, Clarke Griffin, MD – Master of Dramatics. But you didn’t see her. You _don’t_ see her - not like I do every day.

It’s been three months of this. I spent the first month staring. Just straight up gawking. Then I realized I was being a total creep so the second month I tried to not look or at least keep it to a minimum. You know, straining my peripheral vision, watching her through my compact mirror that I’d just so happen to pull out of my purse at 8:31. Creep factor significantly lowered. Sort of.

But I can’t stand it anymore. I’m back to staring. I can’t help it. 

But it’s ok. It’s helping me put my fine arts degree to use. Now, every day after the Number 13 bus pulls away from the stop and I’m done studying her, I sketch her. I swear this is not as creepazoid as it sounds. I should be thanking her really. She’s the best live model I could ask for. Stylish, angular features, and very pleasing to the eye. Surely I’m not the only one to notice. And while I know my opinion doesn’t have any bearing on her existence or that she should care what I or anyone else thinks, I just really hate this job. Okay? She’s my one bright spot.

Anyways. She caught me staring two weeks ago. She had stopped to tie her shoe and as she stood up she placed her hand on the ledge of my window. She looked directly at me. It was magical. I died. My soul ascended to a higher plane. Then I realized she was still looking at me and I probably looked like an absolute idiot. My soul aggressively descended and crashed back into me. I was caught staring and, like an absolute knob, I flinched and frantically looked around for something to occupy myself with as if nothing happened. After I grabbed a paperclip and stuck it on random papers on my desk, I chanced another look at her. She was still there. She smiled at me and with a tiny sweet wave, then she crossed the road and caught the bus right before it drove away.

The next day, she actually slowed down as she walked by and, dare I say, looked for me. I was there, of course, waiting to see her. Granted, I was trying to hide by peeking over the top of a file folder, then when she got there I acted like it was such a coincidence that I looked up at the exact moment she was there. I was actually able to play it cool despite my brain short circuiting. She said “Hi” – well I could see her mouth it through the commercial grade, shatter-proof glass window. Then she held up the paper coffee cup in her hand and pointed to the black marker writing and back to herself.

And that’s how I learned the woman on the other side of my window is named Lexa. Lexa, I like that. I’ve never met a Lexa but she looks just like one. Very fitting.

Then I realized she was waiting for me to introduce myself. In a moment of utter idiocy, instead of grabbing a pen to write it down, I stood up from my chair and puffed out my chest at her. Of course the writing on my name tag was too small for her to see and she leaned forward squinting. Then, in another moment I would prefer to forget, I stepped forward and practically shoved my chesticles against the glass so she could read it clearly. Yes. I did that. 

To her credit she didn’t react as horrified by my actions as one would expect. If I’m lucky she may have even found it endearing, or adorkable, or cutesy even… I’ll take what I can get.

After a split second of shock, she giggled, the girl in my window actually giggled, and narrowed her look at my nametag. A moment later she looked back up at me with her kind eyes and said, “Hi Clarke”. It totally couldn’t hear it, but I’m pretty sure that’s definitely what she said and I bet it sounded amazing.

//

Last week I worked up the courage to start showing her my drawings. Just one at a time, but I think she really liked them. I started by showing her one of the bus stop. She was in it, of course, just much more subtly than in the others. 

But then I started showing her the others, and now I know she likes them. You see, I like to draw her in a landscape, just not usually the one outside my window. There's the one of her shielding a small boy from an oncoming vehicle dressed as Wonder Woman. The one of her in pouring rain with her umbrella keeping her perfect hair dry.

Then there's the one of her in her red scarf blowing in the wind behind her that looks more like a fierce warrior with a blood red stole billowing in her wake. That one's my favorite. It seemed to be hers too as she stared at it with an intense fire in her eyes. 

//

Today I have a plan. Today I’m going to speak to her. Like actually speak to her. I hope.

It’s currently 8:30 and my desk chair is squeaking with how vigorously my leg is bouncing. 

Now it’s 8:31, my palms are sweaty, knees weak, arms are heavy. There’s vom-…. Nevermind. _I’m not even wearing a sweater!_

8:32. Today’s drawing sits upside down on my desk near the window.

8:33.

8:34?!?!

Here she comes! I make the sign of the cross. I’m not even religious but I could use all the help I can get.

She’s smiling already and she only just got in front of my window. _Oh my god, oh my god!_

I take two poor excuses for a deep breaths and stand up to greet her through the window. I grab the drawing but don’t show her yet. Chewing on my lip, it actually hurts and I look up to see her with a confused and worried look on her face. I close my eyes and take a real breath. 

I flip the picture around and hold it against the window. Finally opening my eyes my biggest fears are realized when she’s scrunching her forehead looking at the picture. A slight tilt of her head simultaneously calms my fears and utterly embarrasses me. It’s upside down. _Oh for fuck’s sake!_

I flip it properly and immediately her eyes dance around the picture. Now I’ve stopped breathing entirely. 

I watch as a smile reaches her eyes and a blush creeps onto her cheeks. _Don’t fail me now lungs, I feel like I’m going to pass out!_

Before she can finish nodding, I’m rushing out of my cube and _running_ down the hall. A maze of hallways finally leads me to the front door of the office building. From this spot on the sidewalk I can’t see her, she’s around the corner of the building. I take tentative steps toward my destination, wishing upon wish that she’s still there and not just a mirage from too many hours spent staring out my window.

I round the corner. She’s there, she’s real. She’s… laughing and looking into my window? _WTF? Am I having an out of body experience?_

As I step closer, I see Raven has picked up the drawing I had unceremoniously dropped in my haste. She sees me and her eyes bug out, alerting Lexa of my presence. 

Lexa turns toward me, “Clarke,” she breathes.

I can’t even bring myself to say anything. I can hardly think. I can’t even stop myself before leaning in to kiss her. Her lips are softer than I could’ve ever imagined, but her arms snake around my waist and it’s exactly as amazing as I thought it would feel. 

Our chaste but promising kiss is interrupted by Raven rudely banging on the window. She holds the picture back up against the window and I can tell she’s struggling to figure out what the hell she just witnessed.

Lexa and I look at the picture together. I had drawn the two of us, standing on the sidewalk in an embrace not unlike the way were holding each other right now.

I look at the woman in my arms and she laughs. _How can this be real?_

“Feel like playing hooky?” I ask her.

She bites her lip and nods quickly. I grab her hand and we run off into the sunrise, the Number 13 bus and Raven standing in my window all but forgotten.

**Author's Note:**

> I know I have no right to attempt a first-person story but things just happened.
> 
> Find me on Tumblr [@grapejuiceboobs](http://grapejuiceboobs.tumblr.com/)
> 
>  
> 
> [Moodboard!](http://grapejuiceboobs.tumblr.com/post/171710141936/the-girl-in-my-window-read-on-ao3-fluffy-one-shot)
> 
>  
> 
> [Check out my newly complete fic Sweet Company](https://archiveofourown.org/works/8118796/chapters/18610450)


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